


Once More

by SwordofAwesomeness



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Freeform, Gen, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inspired by Doki Doki Literature Club!, Meta, My First AO3 Post, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poetry, Self-Harm, Time Loop, random updates (Is that a tag)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29134026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordofAwesomeness/pseuds/SwordofAwesomeness
Summary: A series of short stories. Some are Poems. Some are confessions. You don't have to read in any order. There is an overarching story, however. And her journey is not yet over.TW for Su*cide, Self-harm, and anything related to DDLC, because that basically sums it up.Also on Wattpadhttps://www.wattpad.com/story/243289807-once-more
Kudos: 7





	1. Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that this may be triggering. "Wolf" Is vastly different from the other story parts for now. This is the first work I'm "Proud" of, so I hope you enjoy. If you have any thoughts on what any of this represents, please, do tell me. Thanks to my former writing teacher for beta-reading.
> 
> Comments, Feedback, and Criticism is appreciated.

##  Part One: Wolf

“You don’t know anything,” “Stop being so selfish.” “Crying doesn’t solve anything.” “What about me? I’m not complaining.”  _ Help. Help. Please _ . “ NOBODY FUCKING CARES ABOUT YOU!”

I panted softly. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want this. “Somebody help me,” I mumbled. I gasped for air, the feeling of drowning slowly overtaking me. I picked up my pen once more and began to write.

_ I took out my meal, ready to eat. _

_ A wolf stands there, staring at me _

_ I know the dangers, but his grey eyes entrance me. _

_ I know if I feed him, he would come back. _

_ But his eyes. _

_ His stormy eyes. _

_ The way he asks me silently, with nothing but his stormy grey eyes. _

_ So I feed him. _

_ And I leave. _

_ But I walk that same path the next day, another lunch in my hand. _

_ He’s there again. _

_ I’m scared. _

_ I’m scared, but I feed him. _

_ He keeps coming back, no matter how hard I try to stop. _

_ Holding the sandwich scares me now. _

_ Walking on that path scares me now. _

_ But the joy of seeing that wolf eating _

_ Satisfies me to no end. _

_ Is it controlling me? _

_ Maybe. _

_ He keeps coming back for more. _

_ I can’t stop him. _

_ My hunger grows even still. _

_ I feed him even If I don’t have anything. _

_ I feed him even If I don’t see him. _

_ I’m hungry. _

_ But I feed him. _

_ Now, even if I so much look at my food, _

_ He comes. _

_ And I must feed him. _

_ So I feed him again _

I smile. The ink in my pen flowed so smoothly down the paper. I keep the pen still, watching a black puddle form. The shining nib, bright like silver, glowing and sharp ...I stand, picking up my knife. Ah...I’ve been so bad. I traced the shining blade with my finger, a red droplet on my finger. Slice. Slice. My red blood flowed down my arms, coating them in deep scarlet. How beautiful. "Nobody cares, huh? If they did, they’d be helping you. How sad." I scream.  _ Get out of my head. Get out of my head. _ My screaming rings out louder. I calm down, my eyes dull. The walls were closing in on me, but there was too much room around me, nowhere to hide and curl up, no place to grasp my bearings. I was falling eternally in a cage, drowning. If I tried to stand, I’d only fall farther. I look up at the world around me. My dirtied locks flowing neatly around my shoulders, slightly tainted red. My dull, grey-blue eyes focused on the floor as I put my knife away. Wrapping my bandages, I looked once more at my poem. A small, red droplet of my blood had stained the paper, the iron scent coating the page.

I begin to cry. "Somebody... anybody... please save me." And then it came, the last breath I ever wished to breathe. And I woke again, awake. Alive. Still, in the room, I had been writing in. Time reversed 'till pen was still in hand. But this time, I wanted it. Not only a death that I brought upon myself but that sweet, fleeting, lovely freedom that came by a blade. Acceptance flowed through my veins as I held it, that glowing, shining-steel knife. That darling, sweet freedom… how I yearned for it. I raised my blade, holding its tip against me. I dove it into my chest, the world seemed like a dream. I saw someone finding my body, my corpse in an eternal smile as I held the knife. And I woke again, still holding a pen. I grasped a rope. In that dream, nobody cared. So I hung on. I must know. Once, I made a friend. That path ended with me being murdered. Somehow, nobody came even then. So I kept killing myself. Giving myself a sweet, warm feeling every time I met my end. This cycle went on for thousands of times. Why did I keep attempting? Was it for the sweet release of death? Was it for soft freedom? And why did I give up? Was it for my strange belief that nobody cared? Or my subconscious thoughts that I wanted to be accepted? I swallowed hard, a voice returning to me.

“We, as humans, are bound to Life.

We have created rules and things we must follow. 

We imprisoned ourselves by the necessity to fit in, to belong, to be ruled and controlled. 

And we believe Life is fleeting, yet it binds us. 

We fear death, but it Frees us! 

What are 'heroes', 'villains'? 'Right' and 'Wrong'? 

It is nothing but a fake image we humans created to chain ourselves to the ground! 

And yet we believe. 

And delude ourselves into thinking we 'belong'. 

Is it those who defy rules, are they the ones who have true freedom? 

To those who have no place, no one to confide in, are they truly prisoners of life?! 

What is freedom? 

That's just it. 

It's an idea we created to delude ourselves into believing we're happy! 

**So what is joy?**

**It is a lie.**

  
  


**A lie we created.** ”

Shivering, I glanced around. The knife that had taken my life so many times before was perfectly clean, without a single blemish staining its blade. I wanted freedom, yet it would not be granted to me. I was forced to keep living, to keep breathing, despite all I had wished against.

That droning voice, once terrifying, now calming me from the nightmare I brought upon myself, filled my mind as I thought. The pain was an illusion, as was the mere concept of joy. I did not feel pain nor joy. My senses, dulled by the blade I had brought myself on, had not acted since I woke again. That empty void that was the future, should I continue? Or keep cycling in the darkness that was the embrace of death? I understood my answer. I knew that my patience would be tested either way. So once again, I chased that sweet, fleeting relief, for this world had no control, yet I could manipulate my being. 

And carved the blade into my flesh.


	2. Grasp

##  Part Two: Grasp

Cold.

  
  


It's frigid.

My fingers feel hollow.

My eyesight is spotty.

My stomach is empty.

It's just a gaping hole straight through my flesh.

My thought process, however, only seems to grow.

An engine in the middle of Winter, unmoving and frosty, to sleep until Spring melts it away.

An engine that would need to work when Spring comes.

Spring, however, would be another winter. 

As long as I kept seeking out that knowledge, Spring would never come.

And the engine would just slowly rust away.

I reach out a bloodied hand, stretching my limb out to the sky.

"Y__ n__d _o_ s__u_g_e"

The whisper that fades beyond my ears,

The vowels and consonants that fade into the fog,

Just empty spaces.

The ghostly muttering that I can't quite hear, 

The answer I had been searching for.

The answer to the reason I had started my Winter again and again.

Over and over.

A loop.

Circle?

Ah.

It's fading again.

Spotty and fading.

"..."

"...?"

"...!"

"..."

"..."

The whispers silence themselves, and I wake once more. 

The pen is firm in my hand, weighted and flowing.

I remember those words.

Those ghostly whispers. 

I reach out to them...

And like a dream, they vanish.

Slipping through my fingers

And escaping my grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Comments, Feedback, and Criticism is appreciated.


	3. Mirror

##  Part Three: Mirror

The girl in the mirror is always looking at me.

The girl in the mirror is always sad.

The girl in the mirror says that she's lonely.

The girl in the mirror says she's scared.

The girl in the mirror smiles at me.

The girl in the mirror looks just like me.

The girl in the mirror sounds just like me.

The girl in the mirror says she's my shadow.

The girl in the mirror says that she is the true self.

The girl in the mirror says, "I am thou, thou art I."

The girl in the mirror says that I'm lonely.

The girl in the mirror is not me.

The girl in the mirror says that I'm sad.

The girl in the mirror says that I'm lonely.

The girl in the mirror says she's scared.

The girl in the mirror says that we're the same.

The girl in the mirror says that I'm the wrong one. 

The girl in the mirror is just like me.

I am not the girl in the mirror.

I am not scared.

Of her.

Of anyone.

Of the knowledge.

Of my answer.

Of a different pattern.

I am not lonely.

I'm not sad

I'm not scared.

I'm not her.

The girl in the mirror looks at me.

The girl in the mirror reaches out to me.

The girl in the mirror has warm hands.

The girl in the mirror reminds me of someone.

The girl in the mirror has warm hands.

The girl in the mirror is just like me.

But she isn't me.

I refuse to accept her.

She is not me.

She is not my shadow.

I choose to ignore her.

She and I aren't the same.

The girl in the mirror is always there.

The girl in the mirror follows me wherever I go.

The girl in the mirror won't leave me alone.

The girl in the mirror won't let me be.

If I'm alone, If I'm scared.

She's never there.

If I'm smiling, if I'm having fun,

She's creeping up behind me.

I admit she scares me.

I admit I'm scared.

I accept it. 

I accept her.

I wait for her.

She doesn't reply to my query.

She's not there.

But I feel her hands around me.

The girl in the mirror has warm hands.

The girl in the mirror is just like me.

The girl in the mirror is the same as me.

The girl in the mirror is my true self.

The girl in the mirror is my shadow.

The girl in the mirror is me.

The girl in the mirror has warm hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the story speeds up.   
> This is chronologically the "Second" Chapter I wrote, as you might be able to tell by the slightly different style. As such, the story parts and "Chapters" are ordered not in the order they were written, but the order for the story to make sense. 
> 
> If you think you know what's going on, story wise, go ahead.
> 
> This chapter was inspired by SMT's Persona series.
> 
> Again, Comments, Feedback, and Criticism is welcome.


	4. Shadow

##  Part Four: Shadow

I run from the horror that creeps up on me.

I escape from the creature trying to tear me apart.

It threatens the pattern I had built up.

It won’t let me find my answer.

I free myself from the sharp stares of that nightmarish, sharp-fanged being.

I lock myself away.

Away from one place of chains and into a small room that I can call my own.

I stare at the knife that has taken my life so many times before.

How many times now?

How many times have I done this?

Ten?

Twenty?

More?

How old was I, then?

16?

200?

1,000?

What was I doing this for again?

For the pain?

The sorrow of not reaching the answer?

The grief of another failed attempt?

The knowledge I have waited for all this time?

It's surprisingly funny, I suppose.

I honestly don't care.

I don't even remember.

Maybe it's the fact that there's nothing left to do.

Maybe it's the fact that I've done this so many times.

Maybe it’s the fact that I really am tired of these endless loops.

But it's terrifying.

That monster is terrifying.

It's scarier than death.

It’s not the voice that tells me the truth.

It doesn’t want me to face the truth.

It keeps me from my knives.

It keeps me from starting again.

It keeps me from the answer I want.

So I will run.

But nowhere is safe. 

"Safety"

That simple concept doesn't exist.

It never will.

That monster, too.

It doesn't exist here.

It never will.

Only I exist.

Only me.

And the knife that gives me my answer.

That small room is cold.

I reach out to the warmth.

Warm, soft hands grasp me.

The monster returns.

My shadow becomes me.

The girl in the mirror never returns.

She only becomes louder.

The girl in the mirror never left.

She was just asleep.

Her warm hands surround me as I look at the monster.

The same monster that keeps me from my knives

Reaches out to me

and finally

Stops.

Waiting

Silent

  
  


"What do you want?"

Silent

"Will you leave me alone?"

Silent even still.

I reach out for my knife and give it to the monster.

It smiles. 

The knife clatters on the floor.

The monster disappears.

Or maybe he didn't.

Maybe he's just asleep,

waiting still for his chance to speak up, just like her.

Her hands are warm.

His hands are firm.

I realize it now.

He is safe.

He was always safe.

To keep me from my answer,

To keep me from my knives.

He is the pure idea of "safety."

  
  


I was running from my fears.

I'm always running,

running away from things.

Maybe I should run towards something else this time.

Not my fear of not knowing.

Not the safety I had refused so many times before.

Why not run a little more?

A little farther.

A little stronger.

A little faster?

Why not get up?

Try again?

This time, towards safety

and this time, I'm going to run forwards.

This time, I'm not going to run away.

I'm just going to run.

So my sweet wolf will eat once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think you understand? Go ahead and comment your thoughts.  
> Again, Comments, Feedback, and Criticism is appreciated.


	5. Clouds

##  Part Five: Clouds

An endless expanse of water under a slightly clouded blue sky

Cold concrete(?) under the ankle-deep water

I've had this dream so many times that this place has become my haven. 

Nothing changes here.

Nothing except the clouds.

The water barely makes it up to my ankles...

Though it's never cold.

Unchanging.

The only thing that never does.

Except for this time, she's there. 

That pale-skinned girl with a pale blue sundress, 

Staring off into the distance

Her silver locks of hair flow in a non-existent wind.

Her ankles sink into the shallow water, causing ripples to echo around her.

The water is still, reflecting the slightly-clouded sky.

  
  


The world is silent.

Waiting, 

Peaceful,

Sometimes, the song of birds echoes in the winds.

Sometimes, the pale girl hums a familiar tune.

I can't move, but whenever she sings, I want to reach out to her.

Her voice captivates me.

Her voice drags me in.

I want to know what she is.

In her presence, I am calm.

Her gaze is soft, gentle, and warm.

She never talks, but she listens.

Her smile is small, fragile, and calm.

A smile that I want to bask in.

A smile that I feel safe in.

She is gorgeous.

She is absolutely beautiful.

Her singing voice is beautiful.

Full, gentle, and warm

Sometimes, she reaches out to me.

She holds my hand.

It's cold.

I never hear her voice unless she sings.

A gentle lullaby, strangely familiar.

I feel safe in her presence.

And yet...

Her body is cool to the touch, just barely warmer than the water around us.

Who is she, I wonder...?

And why do I feel safe with her?

Why does she reach out to me?

  
  


And why can't I reach her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my dreams.
> 
> As usual, Comments, Feedback, and Criticism is appreciated.


	6. Master

My hand moves,

A trail of ink.

A brushstroke,

Deep black words.

I write

Until I don’t.

I write.

Until the words write me.

Until the words move my arms.

Until the words force me to speak.

“Until the words force me to start again.”

As I wake with pen in hand.

As She moves my hand across the paper.

As she breathes life into me.

As the ink of codes become strings.

And the puppet stands on stage.

And the puppet tells her story.

  
  


She smiles at me.

She reaches out.

I reach out. 

  
  


I want to break free.

“But the Master’s orders cannot be disobeyed.”

  
  


And I wake, pen in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a lot shorter, but here's your hint.
> 
> Comment, Kudos, Feedback, and criticism are appreciated.


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